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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25932406">Lay Me Down (And Love The World Away)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperedstory/pseuds/whisperedstory'>whisperedstory</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Banter, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:14:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,469</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25932406</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperedstory/pseuds/whisperedstory</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The course of Geralt's life changes in Posada when his destiny becomes intertwined with that of a loud, bratty, colorful bard.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>97</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>919</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lay Me Down (And Love The World Away)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Betaed by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancing_Adrift">dancing_adrift</a> &lt;3</p><p>Title taken from Kris Kristofferson's Lay Me Down (And Love the World Away).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Posada</strong>
</p><p>Geralt doesn't realize it at the time, but the course of his life changes in Posada. There's nothing fast or sudden about it, the changes happening so slowly, unknowingly, that he won't recognize the impact of that fateful day for a long time to come. Until one day, he'll look back and finally see the changes that were set in motion in that tavern. How his life became a little better, a little brighter, day by day, week by week, month by month, year by year. How his path was irrevocably intertwined with that of a loud, bratty, colorful bard.</p><p>It begins the moment Jaskier saunters up to him, with a cocky attitude and fucking bread in his pants, and, Geralt assumes, a wish to die because there's no other explanation why a person would decide that following a witcher around is a good idea.</p><p>He tries to get rid of Jaskier. But Jaskier is a bit like a pest, annoying and persistent. He follows Geralt out of the tavern, follows him out into the valley and keeps following him. He thinks he'll finally be rid of the bard when they make it back to Posada, but Geralt has barely set out to leave town when Jaskier catches up with him, lute and a satchel slung over his shoulders, a bright smile on his face.</p><p>
"Where to next, witcher?" he asks and looks completely unfazed by Geralt's growl.</p><p>It's already afternoon by the time they leave Posada, so they don't make it very far that day, setting up camp a two-hour march outside of town. </p><p>
"I don't understand why we couldn't have stayed at the inn for the night," Jaskier complains as Geralt starts a fire.</p><p>"I don't think they accept stale bread as payment," Geralt grumbles in reply. Jaskier sighs, sounding dejected, but he keeps his mouth shut. </p><p>Geralt shares the jerky and cheese he has in his pack with him, because he can't let the bard starve, tempted as he is, and Jaskier offers him some bread, which Geralt declines with a grunt because it was down Jaskier's fucking pants mere hours ago. </p><p>Eventually, Geralt spreads out his bedroll. He glances at Jaskier. Jaskier and his satchel and his new lute and <em>nothing else</em>.</p><p>"You don't have a bedroll?" he asks.</p><p>Jaskier looks a little sheepish. "No?"</p><p>"Oh, for fuck's sake," Geralt mutters.</p><p>He should let Jaskier sleep on the hard ground with nothing to cover himself. It's not a cold night after all; he'd be fine. And yet, Geralt finds himself beckoning Jaskier over.</p><p>There's not a lot of space on his bedroll, but there's enough that Jaskier doesn't have to press himself as close to Geralt as he does. He's stripped down to his smallthings and a chemise that's so thin he might as well not be wearing anything. His body is long and lithe and warm and he smells nice, sweet and only a little musky. Geralt doesn't push him away, even though he should.</p><p>He tells himself it doesn't mean anything, but then Jaskier snuffles in his sleep and squirms against him and Geralt feels a flash of undeniable <em>want</em>. </p><p>Jaskier is tempting. He's pretty and brave and innocent and reckless, and having him this close tests Geralt's restraint. He wants to roll Jaskier over onto his back, press him down and put his mouth all over him.</p><p>It's a torturous night. </p><p>Geralt barely gets any sleep and more than once he thinks about extracting himself from Jaskier's warm body and sneaking away. But come morning, he's still there and Jaskier smiles at him, sleepily murmurs, "Good morning, witcher," and Geralt grunts.</p><p>"We'll part ways today," he says.</p><p>They don't.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Pontar River (near Oxenfurt)</strong>
</p><p>Geralt isn't going to forget the sound of Jaskier's scream for a long time. </p><p>It feels like time stands still for a second when Geralt meets Jaskier's eyes—pained and terrified and begging Geralt to help him—before Jaskier gets dragged under the surface of the lake.</p><p>Geralt grabs his silver sword and rushes into the water. He's rarely ever scared. He's accepted that his life will probably end bloody and painful. But he's scared then, for Jaskier.</p><p>He pushes those thoughts away as he dives underwater. </p><p>It's just one drowner and it's easy to kill. The hardest part is not hurting Jaskier, who is thrashing and kicking in the drowner's grasp, and he keeps doing so even after Geralt's sword has sliced through the drowner and Geralt is pulling Jaskier back up to the surface.</p><p>"Jaskier. Jaskier, stop," Geralt says, arms securely around Jaskier's middle. "It's okay. You're okay."</p><p>Jaskier sputters and coughs, but he finally stills, hands coming to grip Geralt rather than trying to fight him off. Geralt moves them back to the shore, Jaskier making wet, choking noises and clinging to him. </p><p>Geralt keeps his arms firmly around Jaskier once he has solid ground under his feet, carrying him out of the water and setting him down on the sandy ground, letting his sword drop carelessly.</p><p>"Can you breathe?" he asks. "Slow and steady, okay?"</p><p>Jaskier nods, looking at him with wide eyes. He's sucking in ragged breaths and it sounds painful, but he's breathing, he's <em>alive</em>. The metallic smell of blood hits Geralt's nose and he looks down to see the jagged bite mark on Jaskier's calf, flesh torn and blood dripping down.</p><p>"Fuck," he mutters and Jaskier makes a pained noise.</p><p>"Is it bad?" he asks, voice strained and wispy. Geralt smells it instantly, the sour, sharp scent of Jaskier's fear. He's smelled it on many humans, but not on Jaskier, never on Jaskier. </p><p>"No," he lies and gets up. He doesn't ask if Jaskier can walk, because even if he can it'd hurt, so he just bends down and picks Jaskier up again, one hand under his knees and the other around his back. </p><p>They've made camp already and Geralt puts Jaskier down on top of his bedroll before he gathers supplies to clean the bite and stitch it up. </p><p>"What was that thing?" Jaskier asks when Geralt returns. His voice is thick and when Geralt looks at him, he can see the pain in the lines around his face, in the purse of his mouth.</p><p>Jaskier has gotten scrapes and bruises over the past few months—the gash on his forehead from the rock the sylvan pelted him with had been the worst injury he had sustained so far—and Geralt knows taking care of the bite properly is going to hurt worse than any of those things. </p><p>"Drowner," he says and then, to distract Jaskier, keeps talking, telling him everything he knows about drowners in short, clipped sentences while he starts cleaning the wound, washing out the sand that has gotten in before he picks up needle and thread. </p><p>To Jaskier's credit, he's quiet apart from sucking in pained breaths a couple of times. He doesn't cry or attempt to pull away, holding himself still and stiff. But he's looking pale and shaky by the time Geralt has wrapped his calf up.</p><p>"We'll get you to a healer tomorrow," Geralt says. </p><p>"It's not that bad," Jaskier replies tightly, and Geralt knows it's a lie. A healer would help, or at the very least a few days rest in a proper bed and more nourishing food than the watery stew Geralt has been serving them the past few days. </p><p>Oxenfurt is only a day's ride away. He can take Jaskier there tomorrow—and maybe this will be it, he thinks. He knows Jaskier went to university in Oxenfurt, and he speaks about the city often enough and fondly enough that Geralt knows he'll be happy to return. Happy to stay. Maybe sustaining a more serious injury will be the thing that changes Jaskier's mind, that makes him reconsider following Geralt on his path. He's had his adventures, gathered his stories. </p><p>"Get some rest," Geralt grunts and turns away from Jaskier, ignoring the tight feeling in his chest. It'll be better for them this way.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Oxenfurt</strong>
</p><p>"Do you think it will scar?" Jaskier asks.</p><p>Geralt finishes spreading a layer of the healing salve onto the bite and picks up the clean piece of cloth to rebandage Jaskier's leg. The wound doesn't look too bad anymore after a few days of rest. The local healer did her best and luckily no infection has set in. </p><p>
"Probably," Geralt says and finishes tying the cloth around Jaskier's calf. He chances a glance at Jaskier and finds him, to his surprise, not looking upset at the thought.</p><p>Geralt looks away and gets up, putting the salve back into his bags. "I'm setting out tomorrow."</p><p>"Oh," Jaskier says and Geralt can hear the rustling of fabric as Jaskier shifts around on the bed. "Okay. I can probably walk on this."
</p><p>Geralt grits his teeth together and doesn't reply.</p><p>"No. <em>No</em>," Jaskier says, voice raised and firm.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"You know what," Jaskier replies sharply. "You think you're leaving me here. Well, you're not."</p><p>"I am," Geralt says, not turning around to face Jaskier yet.</p><p>"I'm coming. I'm not staying here."</p><p>"I thought you liked Oxenfurt," Geralt points out with a grumble. He finally turns and finds Jaskier with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed.</p><p>"Yes. But if I wanted to stay here indefinitely, I wouldn't have left in the first place, now, would I?" he counters. "I'm a bard, Geralt. I need to travel, to see the world. I'm going to do it with or without you; I'd just rather do it with you. And quite frankly, if this drowner mishap proved anything it's that I'm safer with you at my side."</p><p>"You're not fit to walk yet."</p><p>Jaskier huffs, lifting his chin. "I guess we will have to stay in Oxenfurt for a few more days then," he says. "You can go find a contract in the area if you really must, but if you try to leave I will follow you."</p><p>"You're insufferable."</p><p>"I'm <em>tenacious</em>," Jaskier corrects and gives a smile. "It's what's gotten me this far. Farther than any of my peers out there."
</p><p>He waves his hand at the window, indicating the city outside, the crowded streets. </p><p>"This city is full of bright people and beautiful things. But it's a bubble. I want more than the respect of my peers. I want people to know me, I want everyone to sing my songs. You will see, Geralt, one day the entire continent will know my name," Jaskier swears. "And they will know about your adventures and heroics, my dear."</p><p>Geralt snorts. </p><p>Jaskier's smile gets smaller, gentler. "And we will still be camping in dirty woods, eating awful stew, covered in grime and smelling of monster guts," he says slyly. </p><p>
"Will you still be whining and complaining too?"</p><p>"Why yes, always," Jaskier says with a laugh.</p><p>"And you think I'll keep you around?" Geralt snarks, the tension in his shoulders seeping out. "Perhaps you will go down in history as the bard that was strangled by the White Wolf, instead."</p><p>"Ah, but I would still be remembered forever then," Jaskier replies. "So if that shall be my fate, then so be it."</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Outside of Rivia</strong>
</p><p>"Is it because this is where you're from that you don't want to go into town?" Jaskier asks, his voice curious but a bit hesitant. </p><p>It's getting dark and they're close enough to Rivia that they can see the lights from town, candles flickering in windows, little specks in the distance.</p><p>Geralt can smell the worry on Jaskier. Worry <em>for</em> Geralt. </p><p>Geralt lies down on his bedroll. "I'm not from here."</p><p>"But," Jaskier starts.</p><p>"It's just a name," Geralt says. "We pick it ourselves. Makes us more… relatable. To have a name. A place."</p><p>Jaskier makes a thoughtful humming noise. He's sitting on top of his own bedroll, placed right next to Geralt's. The fire they made to roast meat for dinner is starting to die down and it's too warm a night for them to bother restarting it, the heat unnecessary.</p><p>"Where are you from then?" </p><p>"I don't know. Nowhere," Geralt says with a huff. "Go to sleep, Jaskier."</p><p>Jaskier sighs softly and settles down, not bothering to get into the bedroll. He turns onto his side and scoots even closer. "It was a cold night, but not cloudy. One of those beautiful, clear, crisp nights," he says quietly.</p><p>"What are you talking about?" Geralt grunts.</p><p>
"The night you were born here in town, Geralt of Rivia," Jaskier says and rests a hand on Geralt's chest. </p><p>Geralt pretends it's the weight of Jaskier's touch, the heat of his palm, that is making it suddenly difficult to breathe.</p><p>"It was calm and quiet and you could see the stars and the moon in the dark night sky," Jaskier murmurs. "A truly beautiful night. A great night."</p><p>Geralt huffs. "What about you?"</p><p>"What about me?" Jaskier echoes.</p><p>"Where were you born?"</p><p>Jaskier is quiet for a moment. "In a gilded, cold cage," he whispers.</p><p>Geralt lifts his hand and settles it on top of Jaskier's, squeezes it. "No. Pick something else."</p><p>Jaskier shifts. "Alright," he says, and Geralt can hear the smile in his voice. "I was born in a field of flowers on a sunny day. The air smelled clean and sweet and the wind rustled in the tall grass and there were birds chirping a joyful melody in the nearby trees."</p><p>
"Where?" Geralt asks.</p><p>"Posada," Jaskier says and scoots a little closer, until his knee bumps into Geralt's thigh. "I thought it was Oxenfurt for a while, but clearly I got the facts mixed up. How silly of me."</p><p>"Hmm. Very," Geralt agrees and his lips twitch up. "Go to sleep, bard. I'm not gonna repeat myself."</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Ard Carraigh</strong>
</p><p>"Geralt!"</p><p>Geralt brings Roach to a halt and blinks at the familiar voice yelling his name. His eyes settle on Jaskier, up ahead on the road. Jaskier waves, lips stretched into a wide smile, and then starts moving towards Geralt. He doesn't quite <em>run,</em> because there are people and carts in the busy street, but it's a near thing, and by the time Geralt has dismounted Roach, Jaskier has gathered enough speed to crash into him with quite a bit of force.</p><p>
"Hello, old friend! Fancy seeing you here," he says, laughing as he wraps his arms around Geralt, hugs him tight as if that's something they just <em>do</em>. </p><p>Geralt's arms go around Jaskier automatically, but he holds himself stiffly, the hug awkward.</p><p>"What are you doing here?" he asks, pushing Jaskier away from him after a second or two. He keeps his hands firmly on Jaskier's waist, holds him in place as he takes him in, instinctively checking for injuries because it's <em>Jaskier</em>. When they parted before winter, Geralt heading for Kaer Morhen, Jaskier had plans to go to Oxenfurt. The fact that he is here, in Ard Carraigh, when spring is only just in its early stages instantly makes Geralt worry Jaskier has sought him out because he's in trouble. Granted, the roads here will have been easier to travel much sooner than the treacherous path down from Kaer Morhen which only thawed recently, but Geralt hadn't expected to see Jaskier again for a few more weeks.</p><p>"Oh, I was in the area," Jaskier says, waving him off.</p><p>
"Jaskier."</p><p>"What? I can't have missed my dear friend? Oxenfurt was great. Lovely, really. But it was starting to get a little boring and I got an invitation to play at a betrothal feast not too far from here. And after that I thought why not come here and see if you pass through? You said you often do on your way back from Kaer Morhen. And here you are, in all your magnificent glory, my dear witcher. So clearly destiny deems me favorable right now."</p><p>"This has nothing to do with destiny," Geralt mutters and takes Roach's reins in hand, leading her slowly down the road. Jaskier follows, pressing himself closer to Geralt's side than necessary.</p><p>"Spoken like a true grumpy witcher," Jaskier intones and nods, his hand finding Geralt's arm. "But I, a simple bard, cannot help but think I was destined to find you. To not spend any more time apart than necessary. I was quite lonesome without you, darling witcher."
</p><p>Geralt snorts. "I'm sure you weren't," he says. "There were plenty of people warming your bed, no doubt."</p><p>"Jealous?" Jaskier asks with a grin and nudges him. "My bed, indeed, was not cold. But the heart, Geralt, the heart is another matter. And you, my dear muse, were sorely missed. There are only so many weeks one can rely on the memory of past events before they run out of inspiration."</p><p>"Hmm."</p><p>"So. How was Kaer Morhen?" Jaskier prompts, sounding excited.</p><p>"Same as always."</p><p>"Yes, but what does that mean, Geralt?" Jaskier prods.</p><p>Geralt bites back a smirk and makes a dismissive noise. "That nothing much happened."

"Geralt, come on," Jaskier whines. "Please? Tell me everything. Every mundane detail. It might seem not worth mentioning to you, but I'm sure you have plenty of stories from this winter that are worthy of songs. About the grand, dark keep, the secrets it holds, the fearless witchers of the Wolf School!"</p><p>"We trained, we slept, we repaired the keep," Geralt says.</p><p>Jaskier huffs, while steering Geralt onto a small cobblestone street to the right. "You're impossible," he says and nods at the inn up the road. "We're staying here."</p><p>"We?"</p><p>"Oh, would you like to pay for your own room somewhere else?" Jaskier asks sarcastically, eyebrows raised and then he frowns, eyeing Geralt up and down. "You need a good meal, Geralt. Didn't they feed up at your oh-so-secret keep?"</p><p>"I'm fine, bard," Geralt grumbles. Truth be told, the last few days of traveling have been a little rough and there hasn't been much food, but he knows a few days without won't be visible on him and Jaskier is just making a fuss.</p><p>"Here," Jaskier says, fiddling with his coin purse as he follows Geralt into the stables behind the inn. He waves down a stable boy. "First we'll get Roach fed and then you."</p><p>True to his word, he leads Geralt into the tavern that makes up the lower floor of the inn once Roach is settled and steers him right to a table, only stopping briefly at the bar to flag down the barmaid and order food and drink.</p><p>The food the barmaid brings is plentiful—a bowl of steaming stew and a platter of meat and potatoes as well as bread and two tankards of ale—and she looks at Jaskier through lowered lashes, smiling. Her interest is clear, if a little clumsy.</p><p>"Will you be singing again tonight, Master Jaskier?" she asks.</p><p>"Ah, not tonight, I'm afraid. My friend and I just reunited after long months apart and we have some catching up to do," Jaskier says apologetically, tossing a smile Geralt's way.</p><p>It makes something warm settle in Geralt's belly, knowing Jaskier is choosing to spend the night with him when he could clearly be spending it in much fairer company. </p><p>"She was interested in more than your lute playing," Geralt says when the barmaid is out of earshot. </p><p>"What can I say, I'm wanted for many talents," Jaskier says with a smirk and nudges Geralt. "Eat."</p><p>
Geralt hums and digs in. Jaskier eats too, but considerably less than Geralt, leaving a large portion of it for Geralt.</p><p>
"I already ate my fill today," he claims when Geralt waves pointedly at the platter in front of them. </p><p>When all the food, as well as the second round of ale, is gone, Jaskier pats his arm. "I'll order more ale and tell them to heat up water for a bath for you."</p><p>"I don't need—"</p><p>
"Shush," Jaskier interrupts him and smiles. "Let me take care of you, witcher."</p><p>"I don't need taking care of," Geralt says darkly.</p><p>
"No, but sometimes it's nice to be pampered anyway," Jaskier argues. "I made good money at the betrothal and I've missed you terribly, though gods know why, you old grump. Take advantage of my giving mood, Geralt."</p><p>Geralt grits his teeth, but finally nods. He hates when Jaskier does this, hates feeling like he owes someone a debt, though he knows Jaskier would never see it that way. He's never once made demands because he paid for dinner or a room or pitched in when Geralt's armor needed repairing. Whenever his coin purse is full, he is happy to spend it on Geralt, buying things Geralt doesn't need or want, simply because Jaskier thinks he should have them.</p><p>But Geralt isn't going to say no to a hot bath. He isn't covered in blood or guts or even mud, but he isn't clean either and while the snow has melted and the frozen ground has thawed, it's still cold. Geralt's own coin purse is depressingly empty and he can't afford the simple luxuries that Jaskier can right now. He had planned on heading straight to the notice board to look for a contract, but the appearance of Jaskier and the promise of spending the evening together has derailed his plans. It's too great a temptation, sharing ale with Jaskier and listening to his stories from the winter, slipping into a hot bath in his room and having Jaskier wash his hair, massage his shoulders. He shouldn't be counting on those things to happen, or even hoping for them to, but Jaskier has gotten under his skin, has gotten him used to his attention as well as his affection. </p><p>
"Damn you, bard," Geralt mutters, watching Jaskier as he leans over the bar, hips cocked to one side, one knee bent easily as he taps his long, slim fingers onto the wooden counter to a melody only he can hear. </p><p>Just one night, Geralt thinks. One night of indulging. Tomorrow, he'll find a contract, earn some coin to pay his own way again and not depend on Jaskier. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Kestrel Mountains</strong>
</p><p>Jaskier spends the trek into the Kestrel Mountains complaining. About the cold and the steep terrain and the rocky ground and a litany of other things that Geralt only half listens to. He's learned to block out Jaskier's whining—both for his own sanity and Jaskier's safety, because Geralt might strangle him if he actually listened to every complaint Jaskier had all the time. </p><p>But now Jaskier is quiet—no muttering under his breath, no absent-minded singing, no humming to himself—and Geralt knows that when Jaskier gets quiet, he needs to be concerned. Knows it means Jaskier is either feeling really unwell or brooding over something that is deeply worrying him.</p><p>Geralt can guess which one it is right now. They've taken shelter for the night under a steep overhang when the rain started turning into sleet, the ground getting slippery and dangerous.</p><p>"Cold?" he asks.</p><p>Jaskier sighs. "Ah, yes. One of those pesky human things. We freeze in the snow."</p><p>Geralt snorts and finishes laying out his bedroll. They left Roach behind in the nearest village, taking only what is strictly necessary to chase the creature that has been terrorizing the area. They have his bedroll and an extra blanket, and Geralt nods at it now. </p><p>"Come on then," he says, trying not to let his worry show. It's not cold enough for Jaskier to be in danger—not with a bedroll and another body to keep him warm—but enough to be uncomfortable.</p><p>Jaskier sighs and gets up from the cold ground, taking off only his boots before slipping into the little nest Geralt has made. Geralt follows, settling down before pulling Jaskier into his arms. Jaskier makes a quiet noise and presses close, until his cold nose is digging into Geralt's collarbone and one of his legs is nudged between Geralt's. </p><p>His heartbeat is steady, strong, and his breathing even, and Geralt feels some of his worry ebb away. He wonders when this happened, when Jaskier's well-being became so bloody important to him. Geralt ducks his head down, mouth and nose brushing against Jaskier's hair, still wet and cold. Jaskier shudders and Geralt starts rubbing Jaskier's back for added warmth.</p><p>"I'm okay," Jaskier mumbles, like he can read Geralt's mind.</p><p>"You're quiet."</p><p>"So?" Jaskier asks, cold fingers slipping under the hem of Geralt's shirt. Geralt lets him.</p><p>"So. I know something is wrong when you stop complaining."</p><p>
"Rude," Jaskier huffs. "No. No, nothing is wrong, dear. Don't get me wrong, I am freezing and I wish we were in an inn with a nice fire and a lot of blankets right now." </p><p>"But?" Geralt prompts.</p><p>Jaskier shuffles against him, turning his head a little. "I don't mind this," he admits quietly.</p><p>Geralt only grunts in reply. He's pretty sure Jaskier can hear the <em>me neither</em> in the noise.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Beauclair</strong>
</p><p>Geralt is dirty, but for once not injured, save for a few scratches and bruises. It's early still, dusk just falling, and Geralt is surprised to find Jaskier isn't downstairs in the tavern, mingling with the townsfolk and having a drink or playing a set. </p><p>Maybe, he thinks, Jaskier has found a different kind of entertainment for the night. The thought sits heavily in Geralt's gut as he heads upstairs to their shared room.</p><p>To his surprise, he finds Jaskier there—alone, sitting on the bed and playing his lute, his notebook open in front of him. </p><p>He looks up when Geralt comes in, breaking out into a smile.</p><p>"Geralt!" he exclaims. "Back so soon?"</p><p>"Easy hunt," Geralt replies.</p><p>Jaskier looks him up and down, quick and casual, scanning him for injuries, Geralt knows. "Still got paid in full, I hope?" Jaskier asks, setting his lute down next to him carefully.</p><p>Geralt hums and palms his coin purse before tossing it onto the bed next to Jaskier's hip. Jaskier picks it up, testing the weight, and grins.</p><p>"Nice," he notes. "This will pay for a new bridle and then some."</p><p>Geralt nods absently and reaches for the first buckle of his armor, starting to undo it.</p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Jaskier unfold his crossed legs, movements graceful and languid, because everything Jaskier does is godsdamned <em>pretty</em>. He gets up and steps behind Geralt, swatting his hands away. Geralt drops his arms to his sides, lets Jaskier finish getting him out of his armor, Jaskier's movements sure and practiced.</p><p>"Not playing tonight?" he asks.</p><p>
"Ah, no," Jaskier says, sounding sheepish.</p><p>Geralt groans. "I was gone for a couple of hours, Jaskier. How the hell did you manage to get into trouble this time?"</p><p>"I didn't get into trouble, dear," Jaskier replies snootily. "I am, for one, completely innocent, in fact."</p><p>"Hmm."</p><p>The last buckle comes loose and Jaskier helps Geralt slip the armor off. "I was playing Gwent with some local gentlemen. I won, fair and square," he says. "They were still a bit, ah, grumpy about it. So I figured it was better to lay low for the night before I was pelted with food or worse."</p><p>Geralt grunts.</p><p>
Jaskier gives him a little push. "Tub is still full. The water might be a bit tepid, but you can fix that," he says. "Go bathe. I have some bread and cheese and meat for you, too. And, darling, my <em>winnings.</em>"</p><p>Geralt starts undressing, pulling off his boots first and then undoing the laces of his leather pants. "What did you win?"</p><p>"Some <em>very</em> nice wine," Jaskier replies gleefully. "Enough to probably get even you drunk. We shall live like kings and queens tonight, my darling witcher."</p><p>Geralt snorts and glances at Jaskier, who has his arms spread out theatrically, grinning. The inn <em>is</em> on the nicer side, compared to what they usually can afford, so maybe Jaskier isn't completely wrong. </p><p>Geralt finishes stripping out of clothes and before he turns, he sees the way Jaskier's eyes roam over his naked body, his grin turning a little lewd.</p><p>
"Ah, what more can a simple—albeit genius—bard like myself ask for?" Jaskier says with a dramatic sigh. "Wine and food and beautiful company."
</p><p>"Silence," Geralt replies as he heads for the bathtub sitting in the corner of the room, partially blocked off by a partition. </p><p>
"Now, why would I want such a horrid thing?" Jaskier asks and follows him. </p><p>Geralt heats the water with a quick use of Igni and then steps into the steaming tub with a groan. He sits and leans back, tension easing out of his body as he's engulfed in the wet heat. It smells like Jaskier's favorite oils, orange blossom and mint, and Geralt can't help picturing him in the tub, skin flushed from the heat, hair damp and curling, and he feels arousal curl low in his belly. </p><p>Geralt heaves a sigh and lolls his head to the side lazily. He watches Jaskier as he drags a chair to the side of the tub and then fetches the aforementioned food. </p><p>"A feast for a hero," he declares and winks at Geralt. "Let me grab the wine, too. And then I'll wash your hair."</p><p>"Jaskier," Geralt grunts, but his lips are twitching up into an involuntary smile. </p><p>
"Hush, dear heart," Jaskier admonishes. He comes back moments later with a bottle and Geralt watches him pull the cork out. He takes a drink, making an exaggerated pleased sound and then he holds it out in front of Geralt.</p><p>
"Drink. Eat," he says, and Geralt takes the bottle. The wine <em>is </em>nice, sweet and rich, and Jaskier sits down by the side of the tub with a smile. </p><p>They pass the bottle back and forth and it's gone quickly, and Geralt eats all the food Jaskier has put out for him as well. Jaskier gets a second bottle, cheeks pink and smile easy. He gives the bottle to Geralt and then moves behind him.</p><p>"Alright, let's sort this mess of your hair out," he says, carding his fingers through the tangled, dirty strands. Geralt is happy to let him, used to Jaskier's treatment by now, though he would never admit out loud how good it feels. Tonight, though, Jaskier takes his time, playing with Geralt's hair as much as washing it, fingers scratching over Geralt's scalp and brushing through his hair over and over.</p><p>The water has gone tepid by now, but Geralt doesn't really mind, not when Jaskier's hands are on him. He's half-hard, feels a low hum of arousal, something that happens way too often around Jaskier. He would feel bad about it, but Jaskier is so close Geralt can smell the want rolling off him in waves, hears the slightly faster than normal thumping of his heart. </p><p>This isn't a first. Usually, Geralt ignores it. But the wine has him feeling loose and relaxed; he feels good and for once he throws caution to the wind, decides to take what he wants, knowing it's freely given.</p><p>He turns his head and meets Jaskier's eyes. Jaskier is flushed, hair hanging in his face, his lips bruised pink like he's been biting down on them. </p><p>"Geralt," he murmurs, and Geralt hums and cups Jaskier's cheek in one hand. He stills and Jaskier smiles, sweet and fond. "Yes, Geralt. <em>Yes</em>."</p><p>Geralt kisses him.</p><p>*</p><p>Jaskier leaves a trail of clothes on the way to the bed, his precious silk trousers and ridiculously expensive chemise discarded carelessly, and Geralt is still dripping wet when he pushes Jaskier down onto the mattress and settles between his spread legs.</p><p>Their kisses are sloppy from too much wine and years of pent-up want; Geralt can't get enough of the way Jaskier tastes and sounds and the beautiful, intoxicating way in which he surrenders to Geralt. </p><p>Geralt curls his hands around the back of Jaskier's knees and hikes his legs up around his hips, licks into Jaskier's mouth as he grinds down against him, dirty and eager. Jaskier gasps and mewls, arches up under him and Geralt wants to take him apart, wants to make him forget anyone else who came before him and stake his claim. </p><p>Their cocks drag together between their bodies and Geralt digs his fingers deeper into Jaskier's flesh, rutting down against him with a low groan. He feels desperate, needy, feels out of control. </p><p>Jaskier comes first, crying out and twisting his fingers in Geralt's hair, tugging at it. </p><p>
"Jask," Geralt pants. Jaskier's warm, sticky spend is slick between them and the scent makes Geralt's head spin. He buries his face in Jaskier's neck, bites down on tender skin and spills with a low grunt.</p><p>He stays like that, lying on top of Jaskier, and Jaskier wraps him up in his arms, making no move to push him off. And then he laughs, soft and light and happy.</p><p>
"Oh, darling," he murmurs.</p><p>Geralt turns his head and grunts in question. "What?"</p><p>"Nothing. Just… this was amazing," Jaskier says. "You know what this calls for? More wine."</p><p>Geralt snorts and makes no move to roll off Jaskier. </p><p><br/>
<strong>Yaruga, middle of nowhere</strong>
</p><p>"Oh, do you hear that?" Jaskier asks, turning to Geralt with a wide grin and pressing his hands to his chest. "Geralt. I can hear it, the sweet, sweet sound of water. <em>Finally</em>."</p><p>"Hmm."</p><p>Jaskier narrows his eyes and purses his lips a little. "How long have you been able to hear the river?"</p><p>"A while," Geralt admits, lips twitching up into a grin.</p><p>"Oh, you cruel, awful witcher," Jaskier says with a huff. </p><p>Geralt doesn't reply, but his grin gets a little wider. It's been a blistering hot day and he's been feeling rather uncomfortable under his heavy armor, but Geralt is used to feeling uncomfortable. Jaskier, of course, has spent the whole day whining about the heat and bemoaning how sweaty and disgusting and awful he feels with every damn step. Geralt could have mentioned that they were finally getting close to the Yaruga a while ago. Could have, but chose not to, because sometimes he enjoys tormenting Jaskier. And when Jaskier whines and complains his cheeks get pink while he works himself up into a rant and his lips stick out when he huffs and pouts and Geralt enjoys that too. Especially today, when there's a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his hair is falling into his face messily and he's stripped down to a very thin chemise that is sticking to his skin.</p><p>Jaskier is a sight to behold on any day, Geralt will freely admit that to himself if not to Jaskier, but today he looks even more appealing, flushed and warm and lively. </p><p>Now, Jaskier walks a little faster, striding up ahead, hands fluttering around like an upset baby bird as he loudly strings together insults about Geralt.</p><p>"Be glad I accommodated your needs and led us to the river," Geralt calls out. "It wasn't on our way."</p><p>Jaskier whirls around, hands on his hips and mouth agape.</p><p>"Glad! <em>Glad</em>! Why yes, Geralt, I am ever so grateful that you are not letting me die of heatstroke or… or dehydration," he grouses, his voice getting higher as he goes on. "How very kind of you to not let your very best friend suffer and waste away by taking a tiny, measly detour."</p><p>Geralt opens his mouth to reply, but Jaskier rolls his eyes and waves his hand around before he can.</p><p>"Oh yes, I know. We're not friends, Jaskier," he says in that low, gravely voice he always uses to imitate Geralt as he finally turns back around.</p><p>
"I don't sound like that, bard."</p><p>"But you do," Jaskier says and then lets out a yell. "Water! Oh, sweet, beautiful sight. Oh, how I have longed for you, Yaruga."</p><p>There is indeed the first glimpse of the river up ahead. Jaskier starts almost running, and Geralt rolls his eyes, glancing at Roach at his side. "He's gonna get tired out before he gets there, that idiot," he says, and his voice sounds suspiciously fond. Roach neighs and Geralt strokes her neck and keeps walking at the same pace.</p><p>Eventually, Jaskier slows down and by the time they reach the river shore, Geralt has almost caught up to him. Jaskier is just a few paces ahead, impatiently tugging off his clothes as he goes. Geralt comes to a halt at the patch of grass that peters out in a thin strip of sandy shore and starts taking his armor off more slowly, while watching Jaskier. His boots and stockings have already been tugged off and he flings his chemise to the side next, before pushing down his blue silken trousers and smallthings in one go. He almost stumbles as he rushes to step out of them, doing a little hop before kicking the garments off his feet. </p><p>Geralt hums quietly to himself, enjoying the view as his eyes sweep lazily down Jaskier's body. His neck is flushed from the sun, his shoulders broader than his carefully tailored doublets lead one to believe, but they taper down to a small waist and narrow hips. To a perky ass that bounces a little as Jaskier <em>runs</em> the last few steps to the river with a whoop, his legs long and muscular from all their walking. </p><p>Jaskier yelps when he reaches the water, but he just keeps going. </p><p>"Oh gods, this feels all kinds of wonderful," Jaskier exclaims and turns in the water, submerged up to his hips now. "What are you waiting for, dear witcher? A written invitation?"</p><p>"I was going to wait and see if you were going to be eaten by anything before I joined you," Geralt replies and keeps undressing.</p><p>"Oh, as if you wouldn't come save me in the blink of an eye, darling," Jaskier calls back and drops down while propelling himself back, deeper into the water at the same time. </p><p>With just his leather pants on, Geralt gives Roach a final pat. "Be good, stay here," he murmurs. "I've got to go make sure the idiot doesn't drown."
</p><p>He divests himself of the last of his clothes and then walks to the shore. The water is cold, but it feels nice as it hits his feet and he wades deeper in, towards Jaskier, who is treading water and watching him, his face submerged almost up to the tip of his nose. Geralt can tell he's smiling anyway.</p><p>As Geralt gets closer, Jaskier ducks completely under water and then comes back up after a few seconds with a small laugh, wiping hair out of his face. "I feel like a new man already," he says and splashes water at Geralt with a grin.</p><p>"Don't start a fight you won't win," Geralt warns.</p><p>"Oh?" Jaskier asks and ducks half of his face under water again. He comes back up, spitting water right at Geralt, hitting his chin, and then quickly sets off to swim away from Geralt. </p><p>Geralt gives chase. </p><p>Jaskier is a good swimmer and he's agile and weaselly, remaining just out of Geralt's reach and slipping out of his near grasp a couple of times before Geralt finally catches him by the ankle. He tugs him back so he can grip him by the waist, pull him against his chest, and Jaskier thrashes and laughs, kicking up water around them.</p><p>"No. No!" he exclaims. "Help! I'm being accosted by a gruesome witcher!"</p><p>"Nobody here to hear you or save you," Geralt teases, dragging Jaskier to him.</p><p>"Roach! Roach, won't you come help your best friend and favorite travel companion?" Jaskier calls, laughing and wiggling as Geralt digs his fingers into his sides. He grabs Geralt's forearms, trying to push them away, to get free, but Geralt simply slides his arms more firmly around him. And then he dunks them both under the surface. He only keeps them there for a few seconds, Jaskier kicking and writhing, before he propels them back to the surface. </p><p>"You brute! You oaf!" Jaskier sputters. "I have been nothing but kind to you and this is how you repay me?"</p><p>"You're a nuisance," Geralt replies, squeezing his arms around Jaskier. </p><p>
"Me? <em>Me</em>? I am a delight!" Jaskier says with affront, but he goes still in Geralt's arms, his hands no longer trying to push Geralt away and simply holding on instead. They're pressed together back to chest, Jaskier's ass brushing against Geralt's crotch.</p><p>"Hmm."</p><p>"In fact, I am the most delightful companion a witcher could ask for. Sweet and funny and smart and oh so talented," Jaskier says. "Any witcher would be happy to have me as their bard!"</p><p>"I think you need to be dunked again. Your brain must have fried in the heat," Geralt muses, resting his chin on Jaskier's shoulder. </p><p>
"Oh, no, don't," Jaskier begs and starts wiggling around again, but less so than before. "I beg you for mercy."</p><p>"I suppose I am in a forgiving mood today," Geralt concedes and turns his head, lips brushing against Jaskier's neck.</p><p>Jaskier makes a quiet nose and sinks back against Geralt's body. "Why, Geralt," he starts, his tone playful, and arches a little against Geralt, "did you bring one of your swords into the river with you?" </p><p>Geralt snorts. "That was a horrible line."</p><p>"It was not," Jaskier protests. "I am a poet, Geralt. All my lines are brilliant. Oh, the many beautiful people I have bedded with these—"</p><p>Geralt sinks them back under the water before Jaskier can finish the sentence.</p><p>Jaskier is gasping and coughing when they come back up. </p><p>"Okay?" Geralt murmurs.</p><p>"'Okay,' he asks, as if he didn't just try to drown me," Jaskier exclaims. "Just for that I should not let you experience the many delights of my body for a fortnight. Nay, two fortnights!"</p><p>"Hmm, but you will," Geralt says and nuzzles Jaskier's neck. Jaskier tips his head to the side, giving Geralt more room to explore and he presses open-mouthed kisses up to the wet, exposed skin.</p><p>"I won't, truly," Jaskier replies with a sigh.</p><p>Geralt hums and nips at Jaskier's jaw while trailing the fingers of one hand over Jaskier's belly. </p><p>"Geralt," Jaskier says, voice all quiet and breathy and aroused. Geralt still marvels at how easily he can get Jaskier like this, with just a few kisses and touches. It's been months and still, each gasp and moan, each time he gets to hold Jaskier's naked body against his, still feels too good to be true. Because people don't want Geralt around and they certainly don't want Geralt in their beds. Except for Jaskier.</p><p>Jaskier squirms in his arms now and Geralt loosens his hold on him, giving Jaskier room to twist around. He wraps his arms around Geralt's neck and brings their mouths together. </p><p>Geralt slips his hands down under Jaskier's ass, squeezing the firm flesh, and he pulls Jaskier closer against him. Their cocks slide together and they both groan, the noise muffled by their kiss.</p><p>Jaskier hooks his legs around Geralt, fingers digging into Geralt's back as Geralt breaks the kiss and ducks down, nipping at Jaskier's neck. </p><p>"Let's get out of the water," he suggests, because there's no way he's going to be able to do all the things he wants to do to Jaskier and keep them both afloat, not with how out of his mind Jaskier always drives him. </p><p>"Going to fuck me?" Jaskier murmurs, and hitches his hips against Geralt.</p><p>Geralt groans his assent. </p><p>He carries Jaskier back to the shore, to the lush, green grass before they tumble down. The sun feels hot on Geralt's back and the smell of the meadow and flowers crushed under them mixes with the scent of their arousal. There are some trees nearby, but not enough to shield them if any travelers were to pass down the dirt road. They haven't passed another soul in the last few hours, the closest town more than a day-ride away still. The likelihood of someone passing by and seeing them is slim and Geralt would hear them long before they got too close anyway, but the thought still burns hot and dirty in his gut. </p><p>Geralt breaks away from Jaskier long enough to retrieve some oil from his saddlebags, and when he turns back around he has to pause for a moment. Jaskier looks beautiful spread out in the grass, shameless and wanton, legs splayed and his cock hard and flushed, skin and hair still dripping.</p><p>"Fuck, Jask," Geralt rasps and drops down to his knees between Jaskier's legs. He curls his hands around Jaskier's thighs and coaxes them wider apart, looking his fill. Jaskier watches him with hooded eyes, biting down on his bottom lip, and makes no move to cover himself or urge Geralt on. His cock is curved against his stomach, the tip sticky wet and Geralt lets his eyes travel down, to his full balls and tight hole. His hands squeeze around Jaskier's legs and Jaskier moans.</p><p>Geralt leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to Jaskier's inner thigh, then another, noses between his legs and then lets his tongue dip down over his hole. Jaskier lets out a keening sound.</p><p>"Oh fuck, Geralt. Fuck, darling," he groans. </p><p>Geralt licks over his hole again, feels the muscles clench under his tongue, before lifting his head. He grabs the vial of oil and drizzles some onto his fingers, gets them slippery.</p><p>"Look at you," he murmurs as he rubs the pads of his fingers over Jaskier's hole and then presses in with one finger. Jaskier moans and rocks down onto his fingers, eyes fluttering closed as he tosses his head back. "Spread wide open for me. Right by the side of the road."</p><p>Jaskier whimpers. "Oh fuck. Fuck," he babbles, his cheeks flushing dark pink. Geralt can smell the spike of arousal, feels Jaskier's muscles clench around him. He likes the thought as much as Geralt does and the knowledge does something to Geralt, makes his gut heat with want and something else, something soft and warm and good. </p><p>The number of humans he has encountered who willingly want to sleep with him free of coin has been very slim. But Jaskier not only <em>wants </em>him, he wants people to <em>know</em> it too, is turned on by the thought of someone seeing him with his legs spread for Geralt. </p><p>
"Fuck, give me more already, you bastard," Jaskier hisses, and Geralt realizes he's all but stopped moving. </p><p>He leans over Jaskier and presses a kiss to his pink, pouting mouth and then draws back before nudging a second finger inside. He fucks Jaskier open with his fingers, adds more oil before he slides a third finger in. Jaskier is tight and hot, but there's no resistance, and he rocks down on Geralt's fingers while making sweet, keening sounds. </p><p>When Geralt deems Jaskier ready, he pulls out and slicks his cock up liberally. He hikes Jaskier's thighs up around his waist, and Jaskier hooks his ankles behind him, heels digging into the swell of Geralt's ass as Geralt nudges his cock up against Jaskier's hole. He presses forward, one hand on Jaskier's hip holding him still as he sinks slowly into his body, working himself deeper with small rolls of his hips.</p><p>Jaskier grabs his forearms, pants, rosy-cheeked and sweaty and wrecked. </p><p>Geralt bottoms out with a grunt, pressed flush against Jaskier. Jaskier is like a vise around him, so incredibly <em>good</em> that Geralt has to force himself to stay still, to give him a moment to adjust. And then he waits a little longer, waits until Jaskier grows impatient and starts squirming.</p><p>"Please," he begs, and it sounds both sweet and a little pissed, the way only Jaskier can sound, and Geralt huffs out a laugh. Before Jaskier can complain, he pulls almost all the way out and then pushes back in, drawing a gasp from Jaskier. </p><p>He sets an easy pace, bending over Jaskier to kiss him and nose at his neck, the spot behind his ear, where Jaskier's scent is unmistakable and Geralt can feel the steady thud of his pulse under his mouth as he fucks Jaskier. </p><p>It's too hot for this, and it's too much and it's perfect.</p><p>Before long Jaskier is writhing, skin glistening with sweat and every inch of him hot to the touch, and he's making breathless, whining noises, little mewls that coil deep in Geralt's belly. He loves it when he gets Jaskier like this, breathless and speechless and needy.</p><p>
"Jaskier," he rasps, his own voice thick with need, and he fucks him a little harder, a little faster. "<em>Jask</em>."</p><p>Jaskier gasps and it takes a handful more thrusts, Geralt's mouth pressed to Jaskier's neck, where his pulse is beating faster and faster, and then Jaskier cries out. Hot, sticky come splatters over both of their stomachs and Jaskier's muscles clench down around Geralt, his fingers digging deep into Geralt's flesh, and he comes with a low groan with one final, deep thrust. </p><p>They lie together in a tangle of limbs, the air smelling of their combined spend and sweat and the cloying sweetness of flowers.</p><p>"Gods, this is disgusting," Jaskier finally says, and he sounds <em>pleased.</em></p><p>Geralt grunts and nuzzles Jaskier's neck.</p><p>"Get off me, you oaf," Jaskier adds with a laugh, slapping at his arm. "You're too damn hot and heavy. I'm <em>dying</em>."</p><p>Geralt grunts, but he pushes himself off Jaskier, his cock slipping free, and rolls off him. </p><p>
"I need another bath," Jaskier says and his hand falls heavily onto Geralt's arm, curling around it. "You need to carry me into the river, darling. You broke me, you have to fix me."</p><p>"Or I leave you here. Finally, blessed silence."</p><p>"Geralt," Jaskier whines. "Gods, why do I put up with you?"</p><p>"Why do you?"</p><p>"Ah, the best poetry is borne out of pain and suffering," Jaskier says with a sigh. "It's my burden in life, one I will carry for the sake of creating the greatest ballads this Continent has ever heard."
</p><p>"Tell me, bard, why do I have to suffer too, though?" Geralt teases. He pushes himself up and looks at Jaskier, who has one eyebrow raised sharply.</p><p>
"I believe, my dear witcher, the evidence of how much you're not suffering is smeared between my thighs right now," he says lewdly. </p><p>Geralt grunts, the thought alone making arousal spike anew. Jaskier grins knowingly.</p><p>Geralt holds out his hand, and when Jaskier takes it, he pulls him up. Before Jaskier can say more, Geralt bends down until his shoulder is at Jaskier's hip and he hefts him up over his shoulder.</p><p>"Geralt!" Jaskier squeaks.</p><p>"You demanded I carry you," Geralt replies, giving Jaskier's ass a gentle swat as he carries him back into the river. </p><p>Jaskier squirms and wiggles, trying fruitlessly to get free, laughing, and Geralt keeps a careful hold on him to make sure he doesn't slip off his shoulder.</p><p>"You're a brute, witcher!" Jaskier complaints. "You're lucky the view from back here is so nice or I would fight you harder."</p><p>And then he pinches Geralt's ass.</p><p>Geralt mercilessly dumps him into the water in retaliation.</p><p><br/>
<strong>Near Blaviken</strong>
</p><p>Geralt stares at the flames dancing merrily in the darkness and flexes his fingers. </p><p>Jaskier is strumming his lute, the melody soft and melancholic, singing so quietly under his breath Geralt can barely make out the words. He's sitting next to Geralt, but there's more space between them than Geralt has grown accustomed too. He can't fault Jaskier for that—Geralt has been curt and angry for the past couple of days. </p><p>He's itching for a fight and yet he wants to pull Jaskier closer, seek the comfort he has been denying himself. This close to Blaviken, it's hard for him to reconcile the monster people think he is with the sweet praise Jaskier sings him. It's been a rough few days, to say the least. No amount of favorable songs will change people's mind about Geralt here and they have been kicked out of towns, spit at and cursed at. There are people in this part of the continent who would rather die at the hands of monsters than accept Geralt's help. Because he's worse than any wyvern or nightwraith or drowner.</p><p>It's hard for Geralt not to agree with them. And there's a part of him that is waiting for Jaskier to see it too, to look at him and see what the people of Blaviken see, to banish Geralt from his life, to deny him his affection and comfort. To, at the very least, get sick of what Geralt can offer him—cold, hard ground to sleep on, a meager dinner, and poor company.</p><p>Next to him, Jaskier sighs and stops playing. </p><p>Geralt holds himself stiffly.</p><p>
"You know, I might not have your superior witcher senses," Jaskier starts, "but I can hear your thoughts clearly, darling."</p><p>Geralt keeps his eyes on the fire, remaining silent. </p><p>"I adore you just the same, Geralt of Rivia," Jaskier says. "You utter fool."</p><p>Geralt tenses further, his throat feeling too tight.</p><p>Jaskier sighs. "And please note that I said adore, not love. Because I fear if I did you would run for the hills right now," he says. "But I do. Very much so."</p><p>Geralt doesn't move, doesn't speak. Not for several long moments.</p><p>"Why?" he finally asks.</p><p>Jaskier huffs out a laugh, the sound both amused and exasperated. "Because despite what you think, dear heart, you have given me many reasons to," he says. "Not many people have. None, the way you do. So I quite frankly don't understand why you put so much stock into what they think about you."</p><p>"I don't."
</p><p>"And yet, here we are. You're sulking and angry and hurt," Jaskier points out, his tone light. "Which I really find quite insulting."
</p><p>"How so?" Geralt grunts, leaning forward to stir the fire.</p><p>"Because, Geralt," Jaskier says, his voice louder, "if you care about someone's opinion of you, it should be mine more than anyone else's. Because I travel with you. I share your bedroll and I have crappy dinners with you in the middle of creepy forests and I follow you into stinking swamps and onto freezing mountains. Who cares what a godsforsaken, crappy town like <em>Blaviken</em> thinks of you, when I <em>know</em> you and would still rather be by your side than anywhere else? When I love you, despite your many shortcomings."</p><p>"Then perhaps you deserve better," Geralt snaps.</p><p>"Perhaps," Jaskier agrees. "But <em>you</em> deserve <em>me</em>, so you better fucking deal with that, witcher."</p><p>"Hmm."</p><p>"Now, I'm going to bed," Jaskier says, not unkindly. "You can keep sitting there, staring at the fire and sulking. Or you can join me. If you're good, I'll even suck you off, get you all nice and relaxed so you can <em>finally</em> get some rest. And tomorrow we're heading east."</p><p>"Jaskier," Geralt starts, but Jaskier cuts him off with a dismissive sound.</p><p>"We're heading east. Away from this awful place," Jaskier stresses. "So. Are you coming to bed?"</p><p>Geralt wants to say no. Wants to resist Jaskier, just for the sake of resisting. Yet he wants to lose himself in Jaskier's warmth, in his gentle touch and sinful mouth and sweet words. </p><p>He nods, and follows Jaskier to bed.</p><p><br/>
<strong>Miller's Lake, Redania</strong>
</p><p>There's a gentle breeze coming in from the lake, making the late summer heat bearable. Small waves are rolling against the shore, the sound rhythmic and calming.</p><p>Geralt is sharpening his swords, but he's more focused on Jaskier. Jaskier, who is stripped down to his chemise and smallthings, sitting cross-legged leaning in the grass, making a flower crown of all things. There's one already sitting on his head, white and light purple flowers contrasting against his dark hair. </p><p>His skin is golden tan, the tip of his nose just a little sunburnt, and his cheeks are pink from the wine he's had, that he nicked from a merchant who pissed him off in the town they left this morning. Always trying to get into trouble, Geralt's bard, but right now Geralt can feel little else but fondness for Jaskier. </p><p>His belly is full from the freshly caught fish they had for lunch and he feels sated from their roll around the grass earlier—as well as the romp they had this morning—and both of their coin purses are full for once.</p><p>There's a vague rumor about something killing livestock in a town further south, but given that the animals were left behind dead instead of dragged away or eaten, Geralt has a feeling it's a<em> human</em> problem rather than monsters. And Jaskier looked at him beseechingly, asking him to make camp and stay near the lake for another day, to get sloppy drunk off wine and laze around in the sun. Given the promises of how Jaskier would reward him if he gave in, Geralt had been hard-pressed to deny him.</p><p>"I'm not wearing that," he says now, nodding curtly at the half-done flower crown in Jaskier's hands. </p><p>Jaskier picks up another flower, slim fingers nimble and graceful as he ties it to the string of blossoms. "Of course not," he says. "It's for Roach."</p><p>Geralt snorts.</p><p>"She will love this."</p><p>"Maybe if you let her eat the flowers," Geralt agrees.</p><p>"You have no eye for beauty, dear heart," Jaskier says.</p><p>Geralt hums, looking Jaskier up and down out of the corner of his eye, glad Jaskier is focused on his flowers. </p><p>Jaskier makes a happy sound when he finishes the crown and he gets up, stumbling just a little. Geralt hides his grin and stops sharpening his sword as he watches Jaskier place the flower crown on top of Roach's head, her ears flickering.</p><p>"There. Look at how beautiful you look," Jaskier coos and strokes Roach's neck, placing a kiss to it. "Most noble steed on the entire Continent. Your ridiculous witcher doesn't know what you deserve, does he, darling?"</p><p>Geralt makes a disgruntled noise, but Jaskier ignores him and keeps petting Roach for a few more moments, murmuring sweet words to her, before finally leaving her side. He walks over to Geralt, his steps just a little unsteady, and then plops down onto his lap.</p><p>"Careful," Geralt growls. "Unless you want to impale yourself on my sword, bard."</p><p>"Always," Jaskier replies with an easy grin.</p><p>Geralt huffs and puts his sword down, while his free hand circles Jaskier's hip, resting on his ass to keep him from tipping off his lap. </p><p>"You're drunk."</p><p>"A little," Jaskier concedes with a smile. "And you're magnificent. My gorgeous, grumpy witcher."</p><p>"Jaskier," Geralt grumbles, but it's not heartfelt. </p><p>Jaskier hums and leans in, nuzzling Geralt's cheek and kissing the corner of his mouth. "You deserve a flower crown, too," he says.</p><p>
"No."
</p><p>Jaskier leans back and Geralt tightens his grip on him, before he can tumble and smack his head against the ground. "You're no fun."</p><p>"Hmm."</p><p>"You're <em>really </em>no fun," Jaskier continues, pouting, his blue eyes wide. Sometimes Geralt wonders if he's really completely human. If there isn't some fae or elven blood mixed with his or, more likely, if Jaskier isn't part siren. Beautiful and tempting and lethal. </p><p>
It would explain a lot.</p><p>Especially why Geralt doesn't push Jaskier off his lap when he plucks the flower crown from his head and puts it down on Geralt's with a smile, fussing with it until it's the way he wants it.</p><p>"My gorgeous witcher," he says.</p><p>"You drunk fool," Geralt grumbles in reply. </p><p>Jaskier smiles brightly, as if Geralt just said the sweetest thing, offered him the world. </p><p>Geralt thinks, helplessly, he would, if Jaskier only asked.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Kaer Morhen</strong>
</p><p>"I think," Jaskier says, his voice slow and slurred, "I would rather not get cursed ever again. That was no fun, dear heart."</p><p>He's pale, cheeks sunken in and dark circles under his eyes. His hair is greasy and disheveled and the bare shoulder poking out from under the mountain of blankets and furs looks bonier than Geralt remembers.</p><p>Geralt's heart hurts, but he feels like he can finally breathe again.</p><p>"I should never let you out of my sight again, you reckless idiot," he says, his voice coming out angry rather than hurt. It's easier to mask his pain. </p><p>"Wasn't my fault," Jaskier argues weakly. "Some people just don't handle rejection well."
</p><p>Geralt grunts, his jaw twitching.</p><p>Jaskier sighs and pulls a fur up over his shoulder. It's warm in the room, stifling so, but Jaskier still looks cold. </p><p>"And at least you finally took me to Kaer Morhen," he says, with a tired smile. "Though I suppose I could have made a better first impression on your family. Being unconscious and all."
</p><p>"At least you were quiet," Geralt replies.</p><p>Jaskier's smile gets wider. "There he is, my grumpy witcher," he coos and then yawns. "Come lay with me, Geralt. I'm weak and frail. I need a lot of affection and attention in my poor state."</p><p>Geralt grunts and stays where he is, but he leans forward, brushing hair out of Jaskier's face. "You could have just said if you wanted to come to Kaer Morhen with me that desperately," he says, his voice rough. "Didn't have to get yourself cursed."</p><p>Jaskier snorts quietly. "Yeah? Would you have taken me here?"</p><p>"No," Geralt lies, contradicting his own words, just to be difficult.</p><p>
Jaskier frees his arm from the bed coverings, catches Geralt's hand in his. </p><p>"You could have died," Geralt says. "You <em>should</em> have. That curse was meant to kill you, slowly and painfully, Jaskier."</p><p>"Ah, but I've got a witcher to protect me," Jaskier says.</p><p>Geralt grits his teeth together and keeps silent.</p><p>"It's going to take more than a curse to take me away from you," Jaskier says, bringing Geralt's hand to his cheek. "I'm going to be around for a long time to come, darling. You'll see."</p><p>"Not <em>that</em> long," Geralt replies, and the words hurt.</p><p>Jaskier smiles. "We'll see about that," he says. "I'm stubborn, witcher. I'll find a way."</p><p>"Jaskier."</p><p>"Hush," Jaskier says and tugs at Geralt's hand. "Come lay down, Geralt."</p><p>Geralt finally does, lying down fully clothed on top of the blankets. Jaskier presses close anyway.</p><p>"Are they mad? That you brought a human here?" he asks quietly.</p><p>"No," Geralt replies. Because he was beside himself when he carried Jaskier inside. Because Jaskier smells like him, like <em>his</em>. </p><p>
"Good," Jaskier mumbles and then adds, even more hushed, "I'm sorry I scared you, dear heart." </p><p>Geralt slides his arm around Jaskier, furs and all, and gathers him close. "Rest," he says.</p><p>Jaskier hums and cluddles even closer, warm and exhausted and <em>alive</em>.</p><p>"I'll find a way," he repeats, words slurred with sleep.</p><p>And somehow Geralt believes him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a href="https://twitter.com/whispered_story">twitter</a> | <a href="https://whispered-story.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>. Feel free to follow/come say hi ♥</p></blockquote></div></div>
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